


Keep It Hidden

by cookiegirl



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Explicit Language, M/M, Make the Yuletide Gay, Missing Moments, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:12:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21910255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiegirl/pseuds/cookiegirl
Summary: Five times Whizzer doesn't tell Marvin he loves him. Plus one.
Relationships: Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 77
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Keep It Hidden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SingARoundelay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingARoundelay/gifts).

1.

Whizzer refuses to say it. It’s not because it isn’t true. He’s not really sure whether it’s true or not, and it’s almost irrelevant; if it would serve his purposes to say it, he would do so whether he meant it or not. But it doesn’t serve his purposes.

He thinks that Marvin loves him, sometimes - or at least as much as Marvin is capable of loving anyone. But Marvin would never say it, not first. He tries his best to make Whizzer say it, though. Flat-out demands it sometimes, like it’s as much Whizzer’s duty as making the dinner. 

“Why can’t you put me first?” Marvin snaps, when Whizzer hasn’t been home to greet Marvin after work, or when Whizzer hasn’t kept the house neat enough, or when Whizzer comes in smelling of drinks he can’t afford by himself and unfamiliar aftershave. “Why can’t you make more time for me? Why can’t you stay away from other men? Why can’t you just _love me_?”

And Whizzer could do all of those things. It’s terrifying how easily he could do them. But then where would he be? What power would he have left? Everything is Marvin’s - the money is Marvin’s, the apartment is Marvin’s, the kid, the family, are Marvin’s. And Whizzer has… 

Whizzer has his own heart. He’ll be damned if he’ll let Marvin know how close he is to possessing that too.

\---

2.

Sometimes the words come into his mind unbidden. He knows that if he ignores them, they’ll flit away again - chased out by some offhand cruelty from Marvin, some demeaning comment or sharp word or too-hard grip on his wrist as Marvin pulls him into whatever place or position he chooses. But, for the moment when the words are there, it’s hard to keep them in.

It’s months in - six months, Marvin would say, though Whizzer knows it’s only five - when the words come into his mind one night as Marvin lies sleeping next to him. Maybe it’s the fact that they went a whole evening without arguing; maybe it’s that Marvin made him laugh so much at dinner that he almost spat out his spaghetti; maybe it’s that the night’s sex was slow and almost - _almost_ \- sweet. Maybe it’s none of those things. Whizzer doesn’t like slow and sweet anyway.

Whizzer props himself up on an elbow, his chin in his hand and watches Marvin, waiting - hoping - for him to snore, to scowl in his sleep, to mutter something grumpily. To do something to chase the thoughts away. But he doesn’t, and damn him, he isn’t even wearing those plaid pajamas Whizzer hates so much. He’s just naked, and his face is soft and slack and missing its usual tension, and his hair is curling softly on the pillow and his breath is slow and gentle, and the words that always come and go in Whizzer’s mind just... settle in.

He could say it, Whizzer thinks. He could whisper it. Marvin wouldn’t hear. 

Except that Marvin would probably be smart enough to register it somewhere in his subconscious, and then throw it back at Whizzer during a fight, and even if he didn’t -

Even if he didn’t, Whizzer can’t give form to the words. This isn’t going to last, isn’t meant to last, and when it falls apart, he needs to be able to tell himself that he never loved Marvin.

\---

3.

There are chess pieces on the floor and a suitcase flung open on the bed, and the sound of Marvin slamming the door is still ringing in Whizzer’s ears even though Marvin stomped his way out of the apartment five minutes ago. And Whizzer is just beginning to stop shaking with anger.

He folds shirts. Folds pants. Tries not to think. Tries not to throw things. Tries not to cry.

This is a good thing. This is for the best. Screw Marvin. Whizzer doesn’t need him. He can do better. Everything will be better without Marvin yelling at him whenever he puts a foot wrong, without Marvin coming home from work in a bad mood and taking it out on him, without Marvin complaining about Jason and Trina and Mendel and Whizzer’s food and Whizzer’s spending and Whizzer’s screwing around.

Without Marvin sifting his fingers through Whizzer’s hair when they lie on the couch, without Marvin doing stupid impressions just to see Whizzer smile, without Marvin laughing into his mouth as they kiss and try to keep insulting each other at the same time. Without Marvin pinning him down, sucking hickeys into his skin and working him open and muttering how fucking gorgeous he is into his collarbone. Without Marvin making him see stars and then collapsing sweatily onto him, warm and spent and -

Whizzer stops folding, hands trembling. He could stay. He could wait for Marvin to come back, and then he could tell him he loves him. Marvin’s pride is hurt but Whizzer could mend it, could salve the wound with an apology and three simple words. He shouldn’t have to, but he could, and everything would go back to normal.

He stands there for a long time, and then he closes the suitcase and leaves.

\---

4.

It’s been a year. 

It’s been a long fucking year.

Whizzer sits in bed next to the guy he’s been screwing, who is fast asleep, dead to the world, and then Whizzer looks at the phone on the man’s nightstand.

His hand reaches out, dials the number without thinking. He swallows, clenches his fists, presses his lips together. The phone rings, and rings, and Whizzer doesn’t know whether to hope for an answer or not. He figures it’s about to ring out, when Marvin picks up.

“Hello?” Marvin says, and he sounds... different. It’s not just the scratchiness of sleep. There’s a softness - and a sadness, maybe - to his voice that Whizzer doesn’t recognize. And Whizzer, who has had a million imaginary conversations in his mind with Marvin over the last twelve months, but hasn’t actually figured out what he wants to say, suddenly knows exactly what he wants to say. _I’m sorry. I miss you. I love you._ He swallows again, then opens his mouth.

“Hello?” Marvin says again. “Who is this? Do you know what time it is?” And the softness is gone and the tone is just irritation and impatience. It's a tone that Whizzer remembers all too well. 

Whizzer hangs up.

\---

5.

It's their third date, this time around. The third time Whizzer's seen him since the baseball game; the third time they've eaten dinner and talked and laughed and gone back to Marvin's place for coffee, and very deliberately not had sex. Whizzer is aching for it, his body humming with the memories of Marvin's touch from two years ago, and it must be worse for Marvin, who he's pretty sure hasn't slept with anyone in months. But they're taking it slow, and careful, and everything is different, and -

And fuck, Whizzer is not waiting anymore. 

Marvin's gone to the kitchen to refill their coffee cups, and Whizzer can't just sit on the couch until he returns. He follows, adrenaline buzzing through him, desperate to touch.

He finds Marvin standing in the kitchen, chewing on his lower lip, leaning against the counter and not refilling their cups at all.

“Marv?” Whizzer says, softly, the arousal seeping out of him, replaced with concern.

Marvin looks up. “Hey, I was just…”

“What's wrong?”

“Why are you here, Whizzer?”

“You asked me in for coffee,” Whizzer says drily. “I like coffee. So I came.”

“But why…” Marvin swallows, and looks at Whizzer in a way that he never did two years ago, as though he's really considering how Whizzer feels and what Whizzer wants. “Why would you give me a second chance? I want it, I don't want you to think I don't want it, but why would you think I deserve it?”

Whizzer doesn't know what to say. That when Jason called him and asked him to the game, the thought of seeing Marvin again made him weak? That it only took a few moments of watching Marvin in the bleachers to see that something had changed in him, that Jason was telling the truth when he said his dad was less angry, less volatile? That there’s still something between the two of them that's worth exploring?

Or maybe just the simple truth, that he loves him? That he always did, even when he hated him, even when he told himself he could care less, even when he cheated and pushed him away? 

It's too soon. Whizzer can't say that, can't give so much so early without knowing if this new Marvin will stick. This new Marvin who seems like he can love him back, can really, truly love, can give Whizzer everything he's always said he doesn't want but desperately needs. 

There's so much on the line, a real future, and it's scary as hell.

“Everyone deserves a second chance, Marvin,” he settles on, after a moment, and it seems like enough, because Marvin smiles and relaxes a little, and when Whizzer moves forward and takes him in his arms Marvin melts into him.

\---

+1.

Whizzer wakes up slowly. He's warm and cozy, his limbs heavy with sleep and his mind sluggish, relaxed. He rolls over in bed and finds himself rolling into Marvin's legs. Glancing up, he sees that Marvin's already awake, sitting propped up against the headboard, reading a book, his old red hoodie zipped halfway up his bare chest. 

"Morning, sleepyhead," says Marvin, setting the book down on the pillow and moving his hand down to thread his fingers through Whizzer's slept-on hair.

"What time is it?" Whizzer says, yawning. 

"Eleven. Thought I'd let you rest. You looked peaceful."

Whizzer stretches, loosening up his muscles, feeling the comfortable burn left over from the night before. Peaceful is a good word. It sounds right. It's not something he thought would ever apply to him, but the last couple months... 

He shifts over slightly so that his head is resting on Marvin's hip, then groans in pleasure when Marvin's fingers find a knot in his hair and start to work through it, tugging gently on the strands. 

"That's good," Whizzer mumbles into Marvin's stomach.

Marvin laughs softly and finishes loosening the knot. "You're beautiful," he says quietly.

Whizzer is bleary-eyed and messy-haired, but he'll take it. Marvin only ever used to call him 'pretty', and sometimes it felt like more of an insult than a compliment. Whizzer twists around so that he can look up at Marvin, and there's something so openly adoring in Marvin's eyes, that Whizzer's breath catches.

He can't keep it in any longer. He opens his mouth, but so does Marvin, and Marvin says:

"I love you."

Whizzer stares. Swallows. Blinks. And Marvin just smiles a little at him, and carries on stroking his hair, not demanding anything back.

"I love you, too," Whizzer says, his voice thick. "I should have told you before, I..." He trails off. 

Marvin leans down and kisses him, his lips warm and soft, and it feels familiar and brand new at once.

"Me too," says Marvin. "But it's okay. It's okay that it took us a while."

And Whizzer thinks that maybe he's right. Maybe it was worth the wait, because they finally have something real, and now they're going to have all the time in the world to say those words.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Yuletide :)


End file.
